Finkielstien
by SUPERxEVILxSOUP
Summary: In a phantasmagorical world a young orphaned boy tries to uncoer the thruth about who he is and who his real parents are.


**Finkielstien **

**A Fairy Tale By: Josh Maroon**

Once upon a time in a small town, that to this day remains nameless, there lived a small boy named Finkielstien. Finkielstien never had a real home and he never truly had a family to call his own. He was a quiet child with not a single friend. The clock began to ring, "DING, DONG, DING, DONG."

"Alas I must return home for Momma shall be worried sick!" Finkielstien Exclaimed,

with that Finkielstien took off racing down the alley ways. His tiny heart pounding with every step. "THA, THUMP, THA, THUMP." Finkielstrien was nearly home. He began running faster as the darkness enveloped the small town. "THA, THUMP, THA, THUMP." The boy made one final turn into the darkest of all dark alleys. Finkielstien gazed upon two mold covered potato sacks with poorly drawn faces on them. "Mamma, Papa, I apologize for my tardiness." Muttered Finkielstien; just then the boy looked upon the night it started with a tear, then a whimper, and finally it happened; Finkielstien began to cry.

"Just once, just once," He said, "I wish my Momma or Papa would say something." A word, a complement, or even a good scolding. Finkielstein didn't care as long as they would say something, something to warm his tiny little heart. The boy closed his eyes one last time and sighed; with that dear little Finkielstien began to rest his head upon his parents. "Hey, hey boy my leg... your on my leg." Without a moments hesitation Finkielstien rose from the alley floor in fear, and began to scream.

"Shh... boy do you want to wake your mother?"

"Who... who are you!" Finkielstien Exclaimed in terror.

"It's me your dear old Papa." said one of the potato sacks.

"But... but that's impossible, I must be going mad." Thought Finkielstien.

"Isn't this what you wished for boy?" His Papa was right, this is what he wished for.

"I must be dreaming." Finkielstien whispered to himself.

"Don't think about it to much my boy, just go back to sleep."With that Finkielstien obeyed his father and without a moments hesitation began to close his tiny little eyes. For the first time in his life he slept with a smile on his face. The boy awoke with high spirits awaiting the day ahead. "Momma, Papa," Finkielstien cried out, "Papa... why do not answer?""Must they be a sleep." he pondered. No for he must have been dreaming he thought. First he began to frown, then he began to pout, he finally began shout, yet not a single person to care about. He wiped his tiny tears from his face and began his day. He said, "hello," to the postman who never told his name. He said, "good day," to the fortune teller whos fortune never came. He said, "how do you do," to the police man who twirled his cane. Yet not a single one said how do you do, good day, or even a simple hello back to young Finkielstien. He sighed and continued his day along. He searched and searched and nothing could he find but, young Finkielstien was not going to give up just yet. He searched and searched once more, as he came across the final garbage can he found it; a single loaf of bread untouched. He reached and reached stretching his tiny arms out. "Mrreow." a stray cat cried out. The cat startled Finkielstien, knocking over the garbage can in the process. Finkielstien didn't seem to care. "Mrreow." The cat repeated.

"Huh, I guess you need this just as much as I do." Finkielstien replied. The clock began to ring, "DING, DONG, DING, DONG." He began running back home like the night before. "THA, THUMP, THA, THUMP." His heart pounding. This time he was farther away from home. "THA, THUMP, THA, THUMP." His tiny heart pounding again, getting louder and louder with each breath he takes. He raced down the alley ways getting closer and closer to his goal. "THA, THUMP, THA, THUMP." Finkielstien darted around the corner tripping himself in the process.

"Unggh." Finkielstien cried out. The darkness of night enveloped the town and Finkielstien, before he could make it home. Finkielstien picked himself up from the ground and brushed off his shoulders. "Is... is that the postman!" Finkielstien questioned, as he raced down the alley to see a corpse lying in front of him.

"Mr... Mr. Postman," muttered Finkielstien, are... are you alright?

"Finkielstien." The Postman whispered.

"Y... yes."

"T... take this letter it... it will..."

"Yes...?" Finkielstien interrupted.

"Your...your parents... kill... kill..."

"Kill who...?" Finkielstein questioned.

"You!" The Postman exclaimed with his final breath. Finkielstien was frightened he wasn't sure what to think; he just stood there starring at the corpse that lay before him. "Rest in peace, you are now free." Muttered Finkielstien. With that the air became cold, the wind stopped, and the darkness seemed to get darker; shadows began to surround the the corpse. The shadows seemed to have a life of it's own as they began to bubble and sprout five sharp pillars on each side of the body, as the pillars began to rise their true form became clearer and clearer. The pillars grew and grew and started to form together near the bottom. "These weren't pillars at all," Finkielstien thought to himself, "these were fingers." The fingers grew and grew and, eventually hands sprouted from the ground. Finkielstein held his breath in fear of the unknown.

"Finkielstien... Finkielstien..." A voice called out from the shadows. Before he could respond to the darkness the hands came crashing down on the corpse dragging the body with into the dark abyss, and just as quickly as it came, the darkness faded, the wind returned, and the air became warm once more. Finkielstein looked down and began to cry.

"The letter!" Finkielstien exclaimed. Finkielstien reached down and picked up the letter off the alley floor. He wiped the tears from his face and began to read the letter:

_Dear Finkielstien,_

_Please return this letter back to yourso called Momma and Papa,_

_for they will know what must be done if you wish to return home_

_Sincerely, Your Father_

Finkielstein close the letter and ran home as quickly as he could. "THA, THUMP, THA, THUMP." His heart raced every alley seemed endless. Finally he arrived at home.

"Momma, Papa, what is it I must do!" Finkielstien screamed.

"**KILL YOURSELF**!"

Finkielstien became speechless as his potato sack Mamma slid a 1950s silver dagger across the alley floor. Finkielstien approached the dagger with caution and lifted it from the ground. His hands trembled with fear. "If it is the only way, then I must." muttered Finkielstein. He grabbed the dagger and plunged it into his heart. His vision fading, his breath slowing, he finally felt peace as he drew his final breath, and once more the dark hands came to claim their prize.

His eyes began to slowly open once more. "Wh...Where am I?" asked Finkielstien. The room was dark a river lay near by with literally millions of dead souls floating by.

"You are home my son," said a dark figure, "do you remember your name?"

"Finkielstien."

"Hmm I thought as much... you have forgotten, but don't fret my boy, for your new life is about to begin."

"But, father...?" questioned Finkielstien.

"Yes my boy."

"What is my name...?"

"**Grimm."**


End file.
